How To Lose Your Billionaire Alpha Husband In 365 Days (Or Less)!-Chapter 95: For Research???

JASMINE’S POV

My birthday was a week away, and nope, Aiden didn’t forget. On the contrary, he’s been pestering me about what I have planned for that day.

I told him not to plan anything, and I meant it.

I wasn’t being coy, fishing for affection, or trying to set some kind of reverse psychology trap. I genuinely didn’t want it.

The idea of dressing up, smiling for photographs, pretending to celebrate while my mate was half-broken and our enemies circled like vultures... it felt fake... hollow, like putting glitter on a wound.

He didn’t argue; he didn’t even hesitate. He just pressed a soft kiss to my temple, his lips lingering for a beat longer than usual, and murmured, "Whatever you want, Jas."

But I should’ve known better.

Because Sophia was a different beast.

It started small.

She dropped by the estate under the pretence of bringing me a jacket I left at her place one time, except her bag was suspiciously light, and she was far too interested in how my day was going.

Then came the questions.

"What’s your ring size again?" she asked casually while flipping through a fashion magazine on the living room couch.

"Same as it’s always been." I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"No reason." She waved it off, eyes glued to the page... too glued.

An hour later, as I poured tea, she ambushed again.

"Do you still hate velvet?"

I frowned, pausing mid-pour. "That’s an oddly specific fabric to ask about."

Sophia shrugged, all nonchalance. "It’s for... research."

Right.

The next day, as we walked through the greenhouse, she struck again. "Would you be mad if I dyed your hair for a photoshoot?"

I stopped dead, turning to face her. "Photoshoot?"

She smiled at me, but it seemed too wide and too practised.

At first, I chalked it up to boredom. Sophia never could sit still. If she wasn’t juggling three projects at once, she’d invent reasons to meddle in mine.

But then I caught her texting, fingers moving too quickly, her grin betraying her. The kind of grin that meant she was up to something.

I didn’t even need to ask who was on the other end of that text.

"Aiden roped you into something, yes or yes?" I asked, arms crossed, as I stepped into her line of vision.

Her silence was her admission. The guilt was there for a heartbeat, but then she recovered, giving me a little shrug like ’What can you do?’

"I should be mad," I said, more to myself than her. "I should shut it down."

But I didn’t.

Because somewhere, buried beneath the exhaustion, beneath the weight of everything we were fighting, a part of me wanted it, wanted to feel celebrated. To feel... human.

Not a symbol, not a pawn, not a weapon forged for other people’s wars... just Jasmine.

But no matter how much I tried to hold onto that sliver of desire, I couldn’t shake the sense of something shifting inside me. A slow, subtle unravelling that had nothing to do with birthdays or secret plans.

That evening, Alara cornered me in the hallway. She didn’t speak at first. She just reached out, gently pressing two fingers against the side of my neck, feeling for my pulse.

Her touch was light, but her expression wasn’t. Her brows furrowed, lips pressing into a thoughtful frown.

"There’s a fluctuation in your aura," she said, withdrawing her hand but keeping her gaze locked on me.

"You’re starting to resonate in waves."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means your bond to Aiden is deepening," she said simply, as if she was announcing the weather.

"And you’re not just connected emotionally, Jasmine. You’re becoming spiritually reactive. Hyper-attuned."

The words landed heavily.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What was I supposed to say to that? Because deep down, I knew she was right.

It explained too much.

The sudden surges of emotion that didn’t feel like mine, the moments when my chest would tighten with grief out of nowhere. Or when I’d be perfectly calm, and suddenly a wave of rage would slam into me.

Aiden’s emotions, they were bleeding into me.

Alara watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to deny it.

I didn’t.

"I’ve felt it," I admitted quietly. "I thought I was just... overwhelmed."

"You are," Alara said, her tone softer now.

"But not in the way you think. You’re carrying him. Every time he tries to suppress Ace, every time he forces himself into silence, that pressure doesn’t just vanish. It’s funnelling into you. Your bond is absorbing it."

I let out a breath, rubbing my temples. "So, what happens if we let it keep building?"

Alara’s silence was answer enough.

"I see." I laughed, humourless. "Of course. More time bombs."

"It doesn’t have to be a detonation," Alara said. "But you need to be aware of it. You can’t keep shielding him without shields of your own. If you keep mirroring his burdens, you’ll fracture."

"Then how do I stop it?" I asked.

"Balance," she said. "You’re linked, but that doesn’t mean you have to drown in sync. You need grounding. Anchors that are yours. Not his."

I didn’t have the energy to argue. I just nodded, even though I wasn’t sure what "anchors" meant anymore.

---

The house was quiet now.

Not peaceful, just... quiet. The kind of quiet that hums in your ears when your thoughts are too loud to ignore.

I sat alone in the study, long after Aiden had gone to bed. The cube’s soft glow had dimmed to an idle pulse, casting faint blue light across the walls like a heartbeat I couldn’t sync with.

Papers were spread across the desk, my father’s notes, diagrams, scattered bits of research that looked like gibberish to anyone who didn’t know how dangerous his brilliance was.

Alara’s words still clung to me. "You’re carrying him. You can’t keep shielding him without shields of your own."

Balance.

Grounding.

Words that sounded simple when said out loud, but in reality, they were as elusive as smoke.

I could continue to suppress, to anchor Aiden from the outside, using whatever magical or emotional barriers I could piece together. Maintain the fragile balance between us, but I will end up bleeding myself thin in the process.

I had two choices.

The Moonthread Binding.

A genius work engineered by my father. Twisted. But genius. He had created a method to suppress hybrid shifts, to force stability through artificial grounding.

But his notes, God, his notes were filled with warnings. Not about the power. About the aftermath. The fractures in identity. The risk of soul-division.

But I wasn’t willing to pay that price with Aiden’s soul.

Yet, the alternative wasn’t exactly safe either.

Letting Aiden mark me.

The full bond.

We both knew it was inevitable. The pull between us had become a constant thrum beneath my skin, stronger with each passing day.

But we also knew what it meant.

Once that bond sealed, there’d be no going back. No undoing. Our fates would be fused. His battles would be mine. His demons would be mine. His pain... would be mine.

I stood, the chair scraping softly against the floor, and crossed the room to the window. The glass reflected back a version of me I wasn’t sure I recognised anymore, tired eyes, tense shoulders, a mouth that had forgotten how to smile without layers of caution behind it.

Two choices.

Both felt like cages. One dressed up in my father’s cold calculations. The other was wrapped in Aiden’s burning need to protect me.

I let my forehead rest against the cool glass, closing my eyes.

"Lyra?" I asked into the silence.

She didn’t answer immediately, but I felt her stir—a quiet presence, watching from within. For once, she didn’t offer her usual sarcasm.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low, thoughtful. "You already know which path feels right, Jasmine. You’re just scared of what it will cost."

"I’m scared of losing myself," I whispered. "I’m scared of him losing himself."

"Then fight for both of you. But don’t fight against the bond. That’s not where your battle is."

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t because she was right.

I had been so focused on resisting, on maintaining control, that I hadn’t considered maybe control wasn’t the point. Maybe it was trust.

But trust required a leap I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I left the study quietly, my fingers brushing the cube as I passed, the faint pulse following me as if reluctant to let go.

When I reached his bedroom, the door was ajar.

Aiden was asleep.

He was lying on his side, facing the window, with the silver light highlighting his sharp cheekbones. His hand twitched a little, fingers curling as if trying to grab something that wasn’t there. A slight frown was on his forehead, and his breathing was shallow and uneven.

Dreams I couldn’t share.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him.

The sheets were cool beneath my palms. I studied him in the quiet, taking in the subtle movements, the way his chest rose and fell, the faint tension still laced through his muscles even in rest.

He looked peaceful. But I knew better.

I reached out, letting my fingers ghost across his cheek. His skin was warm beneath my touch, familiar and grounding, even as everything else felt like it was slipping sideways.

"Whatever’s coming," I whispered, "we’re in it together. Whether we like it or not."